


Hard Out Here

by kaasknot



Series: The Great A/B/O Fest of 2k15 [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fisting, M/M, Omega!Bucky, Omega!Steve, POV tops, a/b/o dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 02:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3339692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaasknot/pseuds/kaasknot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In early days, when their heats had first started and their mothers had corralled them away from everyone but each other, they had stuck all manner of things up there to try and quell the itch--but nothing helped, only made the flames burn hotter. Their bodies wanted a <i>knot</i>, not another finger.</p><p>Until Steve Rogers, mid-heat and filthy-minded, begged Bucky to shove his whole fist up his ass, and that, as they say, was that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard Out Here

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Lily Allen song "Hard Out Here For a Bitch." I don't fucking know, it just happened.

Bucky comes home on the edge of his heat. Steve's working on a poster for the theater down the street, one that's struggling and doesn't care if an omega paints their playbills. They can't afford another artist, and Steve's pretty damn good for what they're paying. He raises his head from the easel and gives Bucky a cautious glance.

"Everything alright?"

"Lost the job," Bucky mutters, throwing his coat haphazardly over the kitchen chair.

Bucky's scent has the hot-metal stink of anger, and he's near to crying because no matter how many times he scowls and claps a hand over Steve's mouth when he says it, between the two of them he's the easy crier. Most of the time he forces it back behind a show of cocky cheerfulness. It wouldn't matter on anyone else, but if it gets out that Bucky Barnes is an omega, not the beta everyone thinks, then they'll have to move again. It's the only way they can keep this up: that the neighbors think Steve is his, not that they're each other's.

So Bucky bites back on his easy emotions, and Steve takes the fall for his heats. The neighbors must think he's the randiest omega ever to walk the streets of Brooklyn--he's heard gossip on the stairs, that maybe it's his body trying to overcompensate for his poor health, and he'd laugh if it didn't steam him so much.

Bucky just stands there, head down in shame and trembling with his heat, and Steve goes to him, wiping his hands on a rag. "Hey, we'll find you a new one," he says, reaching up to brush the hair back from Bucky's temples. "We'll make it work."

"This is the fourth, Steve," Bucky says. "I--I can't be--next time I think we'll have to move."

"Then we'll move," Steve replies. He goes up on tiptoes and drags Bucky's forehead down to his. "We'll make it work."

Bucky's lashes are clumped together. He bites his lower lip. "Steve." He swallows. "I need..." He trails off, but his scent speaks for him well enough.

"Go lay on the bed," Steve says, pulling away so Bucky won't have to. Bucky nods, looking bereft. He sways toward Steve for a moment, before shaking himself and walking into the bedroom, his shoulders around his ears. Steve breathes around the ache in his heart then goes to the sink. He cleans his hands thoroughly from all the paint--scrubbing with carbolic soap, especially under the fingernails. He gets the jar of vaseline from under the counter, and a couple towels. Sometimes when they get going they don't need the Vaseline, but Steve brings it along, just in case.

When he goes in the room Bucky's naked, lying face-down on the bed, his hips rocking slightly against the sheets. Steve can just make out the smears of slick shining between his cheeks. His heat-scent is intoxicating, and Steve feels himself slicking up in response. 

He sits by the bed and kisses Bucky's shoulder, soft and sweet, and pulls him to turn over on his back. Bucky does, shifting along the mattress to make room for Steve. Steve sits down by his hip. Bucky sighs.

"I wish I was an alpha sometimes, so I could take care of you proper," he says. "So we didn't have to live in this crap-ass apartment."

Steve brushes his hair off his face, takes in his dejected, flushed expression, and kisses him gently. "Hey. You'll find another job, and we'll be smart, this time--you'll take off in advance, yeah? I can take being your beard."

Bucky snorts. "You ain't a beard, Stevie, you're the real deal. You're my sweet omega."

"Yeah, and you're mine, so don't you go wishing you were an alpha. I won't have you any other way, Barnes." He lays a possessive hand over Bucky's chest, scritching through the chest hair he secretly envies.

Bucky's eyes flutter, and he pushes up against Steve's hand. Steve murmurs, "Yeah, I know what you need." He dips his hand down to stroke Bucky's cock, even now full up against the weight of his heat, and slips back, trailing his fingers through Bucky's juice to finger his hole.

He's soft and loose, his body already preparing for the knot Steve doesn't have. In early days, when their heats had first started and their mothers had corralled them away from everyone but each other, they'd stuck all manner of things up there to try and quell the itch--but nothing helped, only made the flames burn hotter. Their bodies wanted a _knot_ , not another finger.

Until Steve Rogers, mid-heat and filthy-minded, begged Bucky to shove his whole fist up his ass, and that, as they say, was that. Every heat, now, they'll bring out the towels and Vaseline, and swap out who gets to slip their fist inside the other's body and who gets to ride it until they can't take more.

Bucky whimpers at the feather-light touch, squirming his hips to try and capture Steve's finger, and Steve pulls away, because he's not above teasing a man when he's down.

"Steve, you asshole, if you don't fuck me now I'm gonna put glue in your toothpaste."

Steve smiles, dragging a finger over Bucky's thigh, gathering slick as he goes, and stuffs it up Bucky's ass. Bucky whines, long and low, his ass clutching at Steve's single finger. "More, give me another, give me more, Stevie--" Steve gives him another finger, tugging at the easy muscle of Bucky's hole. Bucky groans, arching his back; Steve can't resist bending down to kiss the hollow of his collarbones, to lick over his scent gland. Bucky writhes. Steve retaliates by stroking up against the place inside that sends sparks out, and Bucky reaches down to grab Steve's wrist. He opens his eyes and glares at Steve, dark-eyed and drugged-looking.

"If you don't put it in me in the next ten seconds--"

Steve shuts him up with a kiss. "You won't do a damn thing, Buck, because you love it, and you know I'll give it to you."

"I don't know," Bucky says, flopping back to the sweat-soaked sheets. "You could be the love 'em and leave 'em type, and I'll be stuck here with two fingers and a load of hot air."

"Not a chance, Bucky," Steve says, kissing over his heart as he slips a third finger in with the others. "I'd get you at least up to four before I bail on you."

"Oh, sweet comforting words," Bucky says through his teeth, straining and clenching and whimpering between. "Don't know why I doubted you. You're a prince among men."

"That mean you're my princess?"

"Screw you."

Steve gives out a chuckle even as he nudges his pinky finger in with the rest. It's an honest stretch, now; Bucky goes silent, and Steve gently spreads his fingers, pumping his knuckles against Bucky's ass before backing away, easing him up to the big push. A gush of slick washes over his hand, and Steve pulls out long enough to make sure it coats him. Bucky keens softly.

"Easy, Buck," he says. "We're almost there." Bucky's body eases and slackens in increments; Steve tucks his thumb in against his palm and angles his wrist. "You ready?" he asks. "Got my knot here to fill you up, Bucky, you gonna take it?"

"Stick it in me, already," Bucky grates out, thrusting his hips downward against Steve's hand, and Steve chuckles.

"Impatient," he croons, even though he damn well know what it feels like to be tip-toeing the edge of hysteria from the empty desire to be filled, and he knows he'll be paying for it his next heat, but he doesn't care. He's got Bucky spread open and wanting, and he rocks his hand into his body, a little further each time, working him up to fit his knuckles, then his thumb--

"Here's the worst of it, Bucky," he whispers. "Here's the thumb, just breathe, okay Buck? Just breathe and relax--"

He puts on a steady, slow pressure, pushing his thumb past the tight ring of muscle and into his body, and the low, edgy moan Bucky lets out seems to fill the room. His cock's leaking all over his belly, his thighs shine with his slick, and Steve bites his lip to keep from blowing his load right there, because damn him if it isn't just as hot as the first time they did this.

"Steve, Steve, Stevie, oh god, you've gotta move--"

And Steve does, bringing his extended fingers down into a fist, tightening the "knot" in Bucky's ass, bigger and more solid than anything any alpha's got to offer, and Bucky keens, his hips thrusting up and his muscles locking down as he comes. Steve envies the sharp cut of his abs in that moment, the bulge of his arms as he grabs the headboard for purchase. He swallows at the sight of Bucky's cock spitting out his load in tight spasms that he can feel from the inside out. The pressure of Bucky's body is tremendous, determined to milk out an alpha's orgasm as much as it is to string Bucky out, and Steve whimpers as his cock throbs in want.

Bucky'll be like this for the next hour or so, clamping down on Steve's hand as he wriggles his fingers in the tight space of his ass, squeezing down anew each time he comes, and Steve pulls in close, presses the hot line of his aching cock against Bucky's thigh, and Bucky slips a hand down to meet it.

"Sorry," he murmurs. "Didn't mean to leave you hanging."

"This is your show, Buck," Steve gasps. "I'll get mine later."

"Still." Bucky pulls him out of his slacks and jacks him long and slow, building up a rhythm, until finally Steve blows, tensing against him and spattering jizz over the mess on Bucky's belly.

"Fuckin' hate heat," Bucky mutters. 

"Could be worse," Steve says when his brain trickles back in through his ears. "One of us could be an alpha." He smiles as he feels Bucky's laugh, and doesn't mind the strain on his wrist when Bucky twists up for a kiss.

"You're a pain in my ass, Steve Rogers," he says.

Steve groans. "You should feel ashamed of yourself," he says. "That was awful."

"Awful is as awful does," Bucky sasses back. "I'm not the one getting in fights every other day."

Steve strokes his free hand along Bucky's thigh. "It's not for nothing," he says softly.

Bucky lays his fingers over Steve's. "I know," he says. "I know Stevie. It's hard sometimes, though, you know?"

Steve shrugs. He can imagine. He doesn't _want_ to, he doesn't want to think that he's making Bucky worry, but that doesn't change the fact that it burns him up when he's dismissed as a genetic dead end. When he tries to be as strong as Bucky, but he gets smacked down and laughed at. He gets in the fights because he _has_ to, because if he didn't he wouldn't be able to look himself in the face each morning when he shaves.

"You got any ideas for where you'll apply next?" he asks, clumsily changing the subject.

Bucky sighs, flopping back to the bedclothes. "Nah, not yet. There's no real point until I'm past my heat, is there."

"Guess not." Steve plants a kiss against the inside of Bucky's knee. He clenches and swells his hand again, just to wipe that sad, dejected look off Bucky's face.

By the time Bucky's body lets his hand free his fingers are white and bloodless, smeared with slick and aching. Bucky, though, has a soppy, beatific smile on his face, and the smell of his heat has banked. "Thanks, Stevie," he says.

"Anytime," Steve replies, flexing out his fingers and flopping down beside him on the bed. They're asleep from one moment to the next.

The next morning, Steve opens the paper as is his wont, and Bucky putters around at the stove, as is his. He's only wearing his undershorts--a wise precaution, in the sudden lusts of heat--and Steve, his knees bumping up against the bathtub, can't help but follow him with his eyes. It almost makes him miss the advertisement across from the news story about President Roosevelt denouncing the invasion of France.

"Hey Bucky," he says. "Listen to this. It says here that the Army'll offer free suppressants to all enlistees."

"Huh," Bucky says, poking at the hash with a fork.

"You wouldn't have to worry about going into heat on the job again," Steve coaxes. "And, come on--everybody loves a man in--"

"If you finish that sentence the way I think you are, I'll toss you out the window," Bucky says placidly. He takes a glance at Steve, who's grinning like a fiend, and rolls his eyes. "You're a dummy, Rogers. A complete cheeseball, I swear to God."

"Yeah, but you love me."

Bucky grunts, turning back to breakfast. "Sometimes I wonder."

Steve grins and shoves more food in his mouth. He contemplates the ad a little longer. "Seriously, though," he says. "We've got some money saved by, we could get you some suppressants so the docs won't even know. Just tell 'em you're a beta, they won't know the difference."

"That money is for you, in case you catch another bout of pneumonia," Bucky says, turning to set his plate down on the plank covering the bathtub. He turns to pour himself another cup of coffee, then sits down opposite Steve at their improvised kitchen table.

Steve rolls his eyes. "It's barely even fall, Buck. I'll be fine."

"Not when fall really sets in. Not in November, Steve, come on. You know better."

"Fine." Steve folds the paper up in a neat square and shoves the ad under Bucky's nose. "What do you think of the look of that enlistment bonus?"

Bucky's brows raise. His eyes flick to Steve. Steve can see he's not enthusiastic about the idea, but it's settling in and taking root. He shovels food in his mouth. "We'll sort it out when my heat's done," he says around a mouthful of corned beef. Steve smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit on [tumblr](http://kaasknot.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fic).


End file.
